


Things you hear in the night

by kiwialicat



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: 2010 era, M/M, Old School Black Caps, mostly just smut, repost from lj
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 00:31:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11635191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwialicat/pseuds/kiwialicat
Summary: He should sleep.  Yeah, that’s really what any normal person would do.  Still, for whatever reason, there’s that thought in his mind.  Someone is in the room next door at 2am.  Okay, so they’re grown ups and there could be any reason for it.One of his team mates has a late night visitor, and James is curious.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After tumblr discussions, reposting an oldy. There may well be more to come. Had forgotten how freaking long this is. Written in 2010. Forgive how cringey some of this if, you know, if you read it at all :)

James yanks up the bedding, letting out a satisfied breath as the crisp hotel sheets slide free.  It’s the same everywhere they go.  Hotel beds enclosed in material resembling slightly tenderized cardboard, wedged under a solid hard-edged mattress.  He can’t sleep in a hotel bed without going through this pre-bedtime ritual of pulling the bedding loose and throwing half of it on the floor.

 

He sits down, surrounded by crumpled beige sheets, and zones out for a minute.  It’s almost as if he’s waiting for the scuffle of heavy feet outside his room and the low grunt of his Wellington team mate announcing tonight’s poker night, with a solid knock on his door to accompany it.

 

“After eight.  Baz’s room.”

 

And then there’s silence.  James’ eyes travel to the bedside and he blinks a couple of times to make out the current time.  Poker after 8pm.  For a few seconds he contemplates it.  There is that dull spike of pain gathering behind his eyes, and he’s several hours short of a good night’s sleep.  Still, the games are usually over in a couple of hours.  His body falls back and he regards the ceiling.

 

“You in there James”?

 

It’s muffled by the door, but another of his team mates is now outside his room.

 

He hauls his body up tiredly.

 

“Coming.”

 

He looks down slightly as the door opens.  Nodding a little he greets his visitor.

 

“Poker Man,” he manages with a wry smile.

 

A cheeky grin lights up the face of his vice captain as he inclines his head slightly. 

 

“That I am.  I’m next door.  Did Jesse let you know?”

 

James glances to the left, looking to the end of the corridor where Brendon’s adjoining room is the last in the row, and acknowledging his brief instructions as he pauses for a second.

 

“Yeah, he came by.  Think I’ll give it a miss though mate.”

 

James waits, anticipating something like a good natured ribbing about being a Grandma, but all he sees is something thoughtful pass across Brendon’s eyes before he simply nods and mutters, “fair enough.  Take it easy.”

 

James stands there, taking in Brendon’s easy swagger as he heads off down the hall, away from his room.

 

Later, lying in his bed, he drifts in and out of sleep to the sound of his teammates playing cards through the wall behind him.

 

He can make out some of their voices, and despite trying to slide into slumber; he can’t help grinning to himself.

 

Dan is in there, arguing the rules like normal, and Scotty is ribbing him endlessly in return.

 

Somehow, he drifts away and the next voice he hears is an unfamiliar one.  It sounds like it’s coming from out in the hall, so he lets himself lie back and relax, willing sleep to take him again, before something solid thuds up against the wall, and there’s a quiet outburst of laughter, and someone being told to shush.  A door is closed and the voices, definitely more than one, become muted.  Again James tries to even out his breathing.  It’s not like he hasn’t slept in hotel rooms alongside his teammates before.  He keeps telling himself this as he closes his eyes firmly and pulls the covers up a little more.

 

It’s Brendon’s low chuckle that has his eyes searching for the fuzzy digits on the clock again.  It’s just gone 2am.

 

Poker must be over by now.  He lets his eyes adjust to the dim of the room and stares up at the ceiling.

 

There are definitely two voices, two low male voices coming from through the wall.  James regards the hotel ceiling for a long time.  Realising it’s also been silent for a good five minutes now.

 

He should sleep.  Yeah, that’s really what any normal person would do.  Still, for whatever reason, there’s that thought in his mind.  Someone is in the room next door at 2am.  Okay, so they’re grown ups and there could be any reason for it.

 

And then the voices start up again.  Only, it’s different this time.  Not voices as such.  No words that can be made out, it’s more like… James’s eyes pop really wide open at this thought - they’re more like moans.

 

“Shit,” James hears himself mumble into the darkness.

 

Still, could be anything.  That’s right James, it could be anything.  It’s late, you’re tired, and you’re just imagining things.  But still, just the same, James fumbles around on the bedside and flicks on the TV, amping up the volume a few notches and staring blankly at some nature programme set in Africa. 

 

He’s sure he can hear the odd human sound above that of the TV, and wishes his mind wasn’t actually searching for those noises.

 

Some time in the early morning, his eyes close and he falls back to sleep, only to be woken again by a door closing. As he blinks awake, light is already filtering into his room.

 

5am.  Huh.  Was that a hotel door closing?  Was it the hotel door next to his?

 

Somehow in the night, James flicked off the TV.  He lifts his head a little and squints over at it, trying to remember just how he’d managed that.

 

Eventually slumping back, he listens to the heavy morning silence, pushing the thoughts to the edge of his mind about what he may or may not have heard last night through the wall.

 

A little later, Jake sits down opposite him at breakfast, immediately fixing him with a slightly concerned expression. 

 

“You alright mate?”

 

James takes a second to register the question, not really a helpful move when trying to put someone’s mind at rest, and nods.

 

“Yeah, just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

 

Jake nods in response and sips at a large glass of juice. 

 

“Go out somewhere?  Didn’t see you at poker.”

 

James shakes his head, “Nah, just restless I guess.” James can’t help the curious expression which comes over his features, “what time did you guys finish up?”

 

Jakes shrugs, considering, “about 10:30, I think.”

 

James sees his expression change slightly.

 

“We didn’t keep you awake, did we?”

 

James manages a smile to accompany the shake of his head, “no, not at all.”

 

That evening, James is about to flick off his light.  It’s 11:30.  Later than he’d planned on being up, but a couple of the boys had talked him into going to a movie in town.

 

He doesn’t hear anyone walk by, but he does hear the clear knocking on the door of the room next to his; Brendon’s room.

 

His hand pauses on its way to the bedside lamp.  A few things fly through his head, but really, he’s just waiting for Brendon to open the door and let who-ever-it-is, inside.

 

Only, he doesn’t, and the person knocks again, and this time a little louder.

 

“Brendon?” 

 

It’s reasonably quiet, but definitely male, and definitely British in origin.

 

James slumps onto his back, his breath catching in his throat as he listens.

 

There’s about a minute’s break before the voice asks again.

 

“Brendon…are you there?”

 

James can almost make out a slight pleading tone, and his brow knits up slightly.

 

Another knock, and that’s it for James.  Purely out of a selfish sense of curiosity, he pokes his legs out of the bed and slowly gets to his feet before padding over to this door.

 

His hand rests on the handle for several seconds before he wills himself to do it.

 

Pulling his door open slowly, he pokes his head out in time to see a man about to turn away from Brendon’s door and head back the way he came down the corridor in his direction.

 

“Mate, can I help you?”

 

The man stops dead in his tracks, looking slightly startled at James’s sudden appearance.

 

James takes him in, unable to stop himself looking him up and down.  He’s young, dark-haired, dressed in casual trendy looking jeans and a button up shirt on top of a singlet.  He can’t help but notice the fresh looking tattoo peaking out of the bottom of his left sleeve.

 

“I…um…” he runs a hand through his disheveled hair.

 

James continues, “You looking for Baz?”

 

“Baz…” it takes a beat, but the man is pointing back towards Brendon’s door and eventually nodding with some kind of recognition, “oh yeah, right, Baz.  I…kind of was expecting to meet him here.  Know where he is?”

 

James shrugs, for some reason feeling a lot calmer than he should be faced with a random stranger outside his hotel room.

 

“Honestly, I have no idea where he is.  He’s usually around at this time.”

 

“Oh.  Oh right.”  The guy nods and looks unsure of what to do next.

 

James smiles in spite of himself.  He can read the discomfort.

 

“Listen, I can tell him you came by, pass on a message, if you’d like.”

 

James gets regarded with a nervous contemplative look before finally the man nods.

 

“Okay, well I’m Rod.  Can you just tell him that I came by, and could he call me?”

 

James leans in the doorway and crosses his arms over this chest as he nods in reply.

 

“Sure can.  So…Rod…you weren’t by any chance here last night were you?  Say, around 2am?”

 

Rod displays a weak smile that screams his sudden need to get away before mumbling out, “You know, I really think I’d better just get going.”

 

Rod pushes his hand into his back pocket and produces a small crumbled bit of paper that he carefully inspects before passing it over to James.

 

“Can you give him this?  It’s my number.”

 

James takes the piece of paper and nods as he leans back against the door and watches the slightly harried Englishman walk swiftly towards the lift.

 

Finally disappearing out of sight, James retreats and pushes the door closed behind him.

 

He only now realizes how fast his pulse is racing as his back sinks against the hotel door and his fingers work open the piece of paper in his hands, so he can glance down at the hastily scrawled number.

 

James is sure he isn’t going to be able to sleep now, so he settles for getting into bed and relaxing as best he can.

 

He has one very interesting conversation coming up with his teammate.


	2. Chapter 2

Some time during the night, James does manage to drop off.  He only knows this now because he’s suddenly awake, and not entirely sure why.

 

It’s dark.  The glowing red digits confirm that it’s still too early for the light to be peaking in through the heavy hotel curtains.

 

And then he hears another noise and feels his body stiffen before letting out a slow breath.  It’s just Brendon, he realizes.  Possibly just the sound of his shoes being removed and unceremoniously dumped on his bedroom floor.

 

Shoes. 

 

That would mean he’s just come in from somewhere, very late.

 

James considers getting up and heading next door to talk to him.  He flicks on the bedside light and turns his head from side to side.  His eyes eventually settle on the screwed up piece of paper, with some bloke called Rod’s phone number on it.

 

He wrinkles up his nose.  There’s no way he can stop himself thinking about what the events of the last couple of nights mean.  Brendon had a man in this room.  Brendon, his very married, apparently very straight, vice captain, had some young British male in his room late at night.  There were sounds that didn’t exactly sound like a hearty game of tiddlywinks, and then there was another late night visit.

 

Yanking back the covers and finding his feet on the floor and carrying him towards the door, James pauses before turning back and reaching for the bit of paper by his bedside.  His heart is beating hard again. 

 

He arrives at Brendon’s door and raises his hand sheepishly; figuring he can still go back to bed and throw the paper in his other hand in the bin on the way.  Forget anything ever happened.  Yet still, for some inexplicable reason, he wants to be here.  He isn’t sure he wants to dwell too long on the reason why.  Afterall, he is either going to be told to piss off in no uncertain terms, or end up incredibly embarrassed when the perfectly logical explanation for last night is given; more than likely, both these things.  It is at this moment of contemplation that he notices the door he is about to knock on, isn’t actually closed.

 

James frowns and gives the door a light push, seeing it swing inwards slightly before pushing it open far enough for him to lean forward and poke his head around the edge of it.

 

It’s near dark.  Brendon’s somehow lowered his bedside lamp and draped something over it to shut out most of the light.  He can make out the still form of his mostly clothed team mate collapsed on the bed.  Running his eyes around the room, he spots both shoes abandoned randomly near the bed - definitely the sounds that woke him.

 

He’s not entirely sure he should stick around, but before he can convince himself to leave, he ends up stepping inside and pushing the door carefully shut behind him.

 

He squints across the room as he walks cautiously towards the bed.  Light would be good at this point, but probably not the best way to announce his presence.

 

Reaching the side of the bed, James just stands, not really sure if he should say anything as he looks over Brendon’s sleeping form.

 

He’s lying sideways on the bed, one leg bent slightly over the edge of the mattress.  He’s managed to pull his shirt off, and James feels a little like a voyeur running his eyes over the naked torso of his teammate.  He admires the scattering of ink in the pale light of the lamp, and not for the first time, has a stray fleeting thought about touching the skin covering all that ink.  It strikes him now, in this intimate setting, and at the wrong end of the day that he’s always put that curiousity down to something other than what it actually is.  James isn’t the sort of man that goes around staring at his teammates while they lie about semi-naked, afterall.  No, definitely not.  He almost finds himself shaking his head at the suggestion as he does just that, and lets his eyes linger a litter longer on Brendon’s solid arms and defined chest.

 

“James?”

 

James freezes and almost lets out a squeak of surprise.  One eye is now slitted open and staring at him.

 

“Frankie, that you?” Brendon’s voice is rough and his words forced out.

 

“Shit…I fell asleep.”

 

James wants to run away or talk a hundred miles a second to explain why he’s in the room, and plenty of other things he doesn’t do.  Instead, he stands stock still and gapes.

 

Brendon lifts a hand to rub over his eyes before slowly propping himself up on his elbows and fixing a direct stare on James.

 

“Did I leave my door open?”

 

James somehow manages a nod.

 

“Damn, I need to stop doing that.”

 

And with those words, Brendon slumps back on the bed, leaving James to screw the little piece of paper he’s no longer aware he’s holding, into an even smaller ball in his hand.

 

“Didn’t wake you, did I?” Brendon’s head comes up to regard James, his voice now a little clearer.  James wonders if it’s that slight return to normality that finally wills him to speak.

 

“I…kind of.”

 

Brendon just nods, “yeah, sorry man; wasn’t expecting to be out so late.”

 

James watches Brendon glance around for several seconds before lifting up his wrist to peer at his watch, “shit, what time is it?”

 

James isn’t sure he’s meant to answer, but hey, he’s happy to have something, _anything_ , to say right now.

 

“Probably about 3:30.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

His voice is gravelly again.  It goes well with the stubble on his chin James thinks, grown thick with the length of the day and visible even in the dim light.

 

James swallows.

 

Brendon’s looking straight at him.  He may well have been doing so for quite a number of seconds now.

 

“James?”

 

James blinks, “I um…yeah, door was open.  Came by to say that you had a visitor.”

 

Brendon nods, “sorry I woke you up mate.  Who was the visitor?”

 

James looks down into hooded and slightly curious eyes and suddenly remembers the paper scrunched up in his hand.  He slowly uncurls his fingers and brings his hands together to flatten out the small sheet.

 

Brendon’s eyes flick to James’s fingers and he suddenly feels the wait of their gaze.

 

James finds himself almost mumbling into his chest, “A guy was here.  English guy.  Said his name was Rod.  He left his number.”

 

And with that, James extends his arm and waits for Brendon to take the bit of paper from him.  Somehow he manages to find an interesting spot on the bedspread, not covered by Brendon’s small but sprawled form, and stares at it until he realizes Brendon’s not taking the bit of paper.

 

He slowly raises his gaze and meets Brendon’s only to find two amused looking eyes staring back at him.

 

James feels his skin heat.

 

“I’m really not having a great night Franko.”

 

Brendon shakes his head, the slightly amused expression still on his face telling James that maybe he doesn’t mean that in an altogether serious way.

 

“Oh?”

 

Brendon’s head raises and he nods, “not my best work.”

 

And with that, Brendon finally reaches out to take the piece of paper, not bothering to look at it before flinging it randomly in the direction of his bedside table.

 

“Thanks for that.  Guess I should probably think about using my bed properly, huh?”

 

James attempts a reassuring smile and hears himself say something he doesn’t really mean to say out loud.

 

“So, who’s Rod?”

 

The grin he’s favoured with now is more shark-like than amused, and James wonders why’s he’s the one who feels like they’re under scrutiny.

 

“He’s…a friend.”

 

Huh.  A friend.  Really, what else was James expecting him to say?  He’s my gay lover.  Please don’t tell anyone.  I’ve managed to keep him a secret all this time and…yeah, probably the friend thing was a relief to them both.

 

“He said he was supposed to meet you here tonight.”

 

James had been meaning to drop it, and escape back to his bed. Clearly, some part of his sleep deprived brain had other ideas.

 

Brendon nods, any trace of amusement dropping from his face, “Yeah, like I said, not my best day ever.”

 

James feels his head cock to the side slightly as Brendon slowly wriggles his body into a sitting position, his legs now hanging over the side of the bed.

 

He raises a hand to his face and pushes the soft palm of his hand into his left eye before rubbing at it gently.  It’s a very child-like gesture, James thinks, and somehow a small fond smile works its way onto his face.

 

“You been out drinking?”

 

Brendon slowly lifts his eyes to James’ and considers the question.

 

He shrugs, “Nah, not really.  Just a couple.”

 

And before James has a chance to excuse himself from the room, Brendon lets his hands drop to the top of his dress pants and starts working them undone.

 

“You going to call him back?”

 

James isn’t sure who it is that’s taken over his mind and body right at this point.  His body won’t cooperate by leaving and his mind seems to be happily spitting out inappropriate questions at random.

 

Brendon ignores the question and instead lifts his hips to push his pants off, before yanking at his socks and flopping back onto the bed, in an even more crooked position than before.

 

James knows that Brendon doesn’t have much of a problem with modesty, or more correctly, immodesty, but he feels like a dirty teenage schoolboy running his eyes over a silicon injected pinup girl in a playboy magazine.

 

His eyes linger on solidly muscled, lightly haired thighs and he has to make himself look away before he guides his eyes any higher.  Brendon isn’t wearing boxers, but tight white briefs.  Not like him to want to hide anything under baggy undergarments.  James somehow manages to skip his eyes up to his teammate’s face, noting his eyelids are only partially closed.

 

“Yeah, I guess.”

 

James flinches.  He hadn’t expected a reply after so long.

 

“Be rude not to.”

 

And with that, Brendon lets out a soft throaty laugh.

 

James watches his chest rise and fall.  

 

Two eyes come up and fix on him, “you staying?”

 

There is nothing in the tone of delivery that seems out of the ordinary, but something lodges in James’s throat, all the same.

 

He can’t focus, and is thankful that the low light of the room is probably hiding his skittish gaze.

 

“Oh…no, I mean, yeah, I should let you get some sleep,” James manages to stammer.

 

Brendon just nods, his expression, as best as James can make out, is neutral.

 

“Sleep well buddy.”

 

And with that Brendon wriggles around until he’s lying in the normal direction on his bed, and closes his eyes.

 

James isn’t sure how many seconds he stands there until finally the common sense part of his brain wakes up again, and he’s backing away, and turning towards the door.

 

He steps into the bright light of the hotel corridor and feels the door close behind him with a relieving click.

 

He thinks that this late night visit has only served to offer up more questions rather than answer the ones already swirling around in his overactive mind.

 

His head goes back before he can stop it and he shudders at the almost too loud knock of his skull against Brendon’s hotel room door.  Sleep. He could really do with some.  He wanders back into his over lit room and collapses into a fitful slumber, trying to blank out his mind.

 

Tomorrow he won’t think about any of this.  Yes, it’ll be as easy as that.


	3. Chapter 3

James likes the sound of willow on leather.  There’s something metronomic and calming about it.  Normally when he’s waiting for his turn in the nets, he stands somewhere off to the side, padded up, his eyes losing their focus as all he concentrates on is the regular thump of bat into ball.

 

He shifts slightly, feigning interest in the sky, which is steadily darkening overhead.  All the same, the daylight is bright and he squints up at the clouds before finding his focus again on his team mate taking guard in the nets.

 

Brendon is like one of those words that you haven’t really heard much throughout your entire life, but then suddenly someone tells you what it means, and now’s it’s everywhere, and being said by everyone.  He’s there, right in front of James, taking his time to compose himself again before the next delivery comes down.  James watches his legs as he lunges forward, and sees the muscles strain against taut skin as he poses for several seconds in a forward defensive stance.

 

Normally, he’d be mesmerized by that sound.  Normally he wouldn’t be focused on the movements of someone’s body.  His eyes wander right up Brendon’s short yet solid frame until his gaze is captured with a slightly mischievous one.  Brendon is staring right back at him.  He’s seen James’s eyes run over him, perhaps more than once.  Fuck fuck fuck.  James looks away quickly, as people who are caught in the act of something particularly sneaky are wont to do.

 

A hand comes to land firmly on his shoulder, shaking him out of his slightly panicked thoughts.

 

“Ya alright Frankie?”

 

James looks around.  It’s his coach regarding him with questioning, but not overly concerned eyes.

 

James only takes a second to respond with the best he can manage, a simple nod.

 

He’s relieved when Andy turns his attention to the nets and yells out, “Baz, time to give James a net, eh?”

 

James can’t look.  He’s not sure what he thinks he’s going to see but the next thing he’s aware of his coach muttering, “You’re up,” and a small shove in the direction of the practice nets.

 

He tries to act like he couldn’t care less that Brendon is sauntering in his general direction, with what he imagines to be a wicked grin on his face.  He doesn’t know for sure as he’s doing everything he can to look everywhere but down the practice pitch.

 

He stops at the base of the nets and drops his bat before working his gloves onto his hands.  James is hoping that by the time he looks up again, Brendon will be long gone.  Stupid, he thinks to himself.  He’s just this guy in your team, you idiot.  Why are you letting yourself feel so uncomfortable around him?

 

His thoughts of discomfort are reinforced tenfold as a warm set of fingers curls their way around his arm without warning.

 

Sharp dark eyes find his own mildly alarmed ones.

 

“Wha - ”

 

Quiet firm words cut him short.

 

“Didn’t really get a chance to tell you last night, but what happened with that guy coming to my room?”  There’s a pause there in order for Brendon to make sure he has James’ full attention, “I’d rather you didn’t go discussing that with anyone else.”

 

And with that, James finds his arm is suddenly freed and that Brendon’s out of range by several paces before he can bring himself to swallow over the lump in his throat.

 

His palms feel sweaty inside his gloves as he watches Brendon’s retreating back, and it takes Kyle’s harsh words of enquiry to bring him back to the present.

 

“We doing this James?”

 

James nods and strides with a false purpose to the back of the nets.  He tries to ignore the fact that his hands are shaking a little as he takes his stance.

 

*

 

James glances down into his near empty glass before tilting his wrist up to look at the time on his watch.  It’s getting late, and he’s been at the same table in the hotel restaurant nursing the same glass of tepid water for too long now.

 

James sighs and slowly pushes himself away from the table.  He’s pretty hopeful that Brendon will be in his room by now, and there’ll be no chance of randomly running into him in the hotel corridor.  Punching at the button in the lift, he sags back against the wall and settles his eyes on the floor numbers as they slowly ascend.

 

He only hears the low mingled sound of male voices once the lift door slides fully open and he’s put one foot out onto the carpet of his floor.  He can do nothing but stand still and let the doors clank shut behind him.  He feels his skin prickle as he listens.  It’s gone silent, but he definitely heard something.  A door closes, and he tries to tell himself it’s not the one next to his.  Listening for a half a minute more, he moves forward, stepping carefully as he turns the corner which takes him down the corridor to his room, and beyond that, Brendon’s.

 

He’s relieved to find the stretch of carpet ahead of him completely empty, and makes his way as quickly as he can to his room, pushing a hand into his back pocket to search around for his key card. 

 

“Fuck.” 

 

He lets the word drop quietly from his lips.

 

He feels around for a moment, willing it to magically appear, and brush reassuringly against his fingertips.

 

His heart just about stops beating as suddenly the door down the hall bursts open and someone comes tumbling out. Shit shit shit.

 

He wills himself not to turn his head to the right, and instead digs his hand into his front pocket instead; desperately hoping that just this once, he stashed his room card in a different spot.

 

“Oi.”

 

James flinches.  It’s the English guy.  No doubt about it.  And there’s no way that that his attention grabbing proclamation is aimed at anyone but him.

 

He lets his forehead fall forward against the door and closes his eyes briefly.

 

He opens them again when he hears the owner of the voice shuffling closer.  He’s not exactly moving gracefully, James thinks, and when he finally tilts his head to take in the appearance of Brendon’s night time visitor once more, he realizes why.

 

Rod, and James certainly wishes he could get that name out of his head right now, is weaving towards him in the classic dance of a very drunk person.

 

James frowns as he stumbles forward a step and brings his arm up, waving around a small white object that James realizes, with a start, is probably his key card.

 

“Lose something Jimmy?”

 

James’ nose wrinkles up, “how do you know my - ”

 

“Bren…Brendon told me all about you.  Must’ve dropped his on your way out.”

 

Rod lurches forward again, and is suddenly leaning on the wall very close to James, his breathing heavy and also, James notes with disgust, pungent with the odor of alcohol. 

 

The card is waving in random fashion in front of his nose, and James has to force himself not to pull back.  Somehow, he doesn’t want to.  That would feel like admitting discomfort, or even fear.

 

He snatches at the white plastic, but somehow, Rod manages to pull it away from his fingers and all he’s left with is toothy grin and a lazy wink in front of his face.

 

“Ya know…I’m the one’s been drinking…funny how you’re the one who’s too slow…”

 

And with that, Rod flicks his wrist and sends the card flying from his fingers and onto the floor nearby.

 

“Oops.”

 

James tries to blank out the drunken chuckle as he bends down to retrieve his card, muttering out, “so where is Brendon?” as he does.

 

His eyes widen as he feels the quick sharp slap of Rod’s hand against his backside before he straightens up quickly and tries to compose his features.

 

Rod is favouring him with a highly amused expression.

 

“Nice arse, Jimmy boy.”

 

James’ fingers feel slippery against the cool plastic.

 

“Oh…and he’s in the shower…washing off that fine body of his.”

 

Rod’s examining James’ reaction, as if he’s suddenly sober as a judge and looking at an accused man who’s just taken the stand.

 

James wants to be thinking about anything right now but that fact that Brendon is only a few meters away, naked and wet and more than likely soaping himself down.  He doesn’t want that thought to be showing on his face in any way shape or form, but as he sees Rod visibly smirk at him, he knows he’s failed miserably.

 

“S’alright…don’t blame you mate.”

 

With those mumbled words, and a leering wink, Rod’s turning and somehow making his way back to Brendon’s room.

 

Half way there, he stops, slumping against the wall and twisting his head around as he raises a finger slowly to his lips.

 

“Shhh…don’t tell ‘im I was here.  He’s keepin’ me a secret…”

 

Another wink and Rod pushes off again, eventually disappearing into Brendon’s room and pulling the door shut with him.

 

It feels like an age before James can push his key card into the lock properly and finally fall into the sanctity of his room.

 

His breathing is still elevated as he lets his body sink into the mattress.

 

There’s no hope of sleep anywhere in the near future, and James finds his eyes are wide, despite his gaze being focused on nothing in particular.

 

He’s done well at ignoring the fact that he’s half hard in this pants.  What the fuck brought that on?  No, don’t think about what you were thinking about.  James wills his breathing to even out and tries to fill his mind with anything but that recurring image of Brendon McCullum, under the high pressure spray of a hotel shower.

 

James shakes his head and lifts his hands to dig his fingers into his temples.  No no no.  There’s no way he’s thinking about a naked man, his team mate, nonetheless, and that it’s turning him on.

 

He’s still trying to wipe the same thought from his mind as his fingers fumble with the top of his pants, quickly popping the button and working down the zip.

 

He lifts his hips and frees his, by now, aching cock as he roughly pushes his pants and underwear out of the way.

 

The hiss of satisfaction he lets out when his warm fingers encircle his length, fills the silence of his room, and almost jerks him back to reality.  The fleeting thought that he’s about to wank off to thoughts of a naked man are pushed hastily aside as he lets his free hand search through the bedside drawer, leaning over to get closer, before eventually finding a tube of something to lubricate his cock.

 

Hastily spreading the cool liquid across his fingers, he grips his cock, feeling the slick liquid smooth his path up and down the straining length.

 

James bites his lip, as he realizes he’s in danger of letting out a noise that can’t exactly be explained by late night television watching.

 

It’s not long before he’s fisting his cock desperately, twisting his fingers around the swollen shaft, as the words falling from his lips come frighteningly close to forming the name of one of his team mates.

 

Only moments later, as James arches up off the bed and comes in hot spurts across his hand and stomach, his pervading thought is that this is really going to fuck up his ability to be around Brendon, but right now, he had to have this release.

 

Somehow he slips into sleep, fighting against his urge to listen for sounds coming from next door.  Strangely, it’s completely quiet, and his last conscious thought is somewhere along the lines of Rod being too drunk, and what an idiot he is because of it.

 


	4. Chapter 4

James nods along with the dull monotone of the Blackcaps bowling coach as he sits slumped slightly in his seat, his long legs splayed apart and his arms folded across his chest.

 

It probably would have been going in if he hadn’t had yet another night’s interrupted sleep.

 

It had been four days since the ‘incident’ with Rod in the corridor, and during that time James had just about become afraid to walk out of his own room.  Thankfully nothing untoward had taken place until last night, when he was woken by the sound of voices outside his bedroom door; _right_ outside it.

 

James thinks back to how he lifts his head a little, straining to hear then groans inwardly as he makes out that by now familiar English accent and the occasional quieter word from his next door neighbour and team mate.

 

“…don’t know what…you think I just come here for fun…”

 

Rod. 

 

James feels his pulse rise slightly in response to the anxious tone in the voice.

 

“…think I just fucking come half way across town…not going away…”

 

James wishes Brendon would say something, anything. 

 

“…liked it well enough…can’t have…”

 

All he can hear are snippets of what’s increasingly sounding like an angry one-sided tirade, and can’t help but feel a little worried.

 

“Go! Just fucking go!”

 

Brendon’s voice this time.  It’s loud enough for James to hear the whole statement, and the intent is pretty clear. 

 

Silence, and finally he hears a body slump against the wall close to his door.  Fuck fuck fuck.  Should he –

 

“…going now…coming back…it…you’ll have to…another fuck buddy…”

 

And more silence.

 

“Well fuck you then.”

 

Rod’s voice, loud and clear, followed by the sound of a door being slammed well and truly shut, then something that sounds like possibly a fist against the wall, accompanied by a loud grunt.

 

James’s heart is really starting to race now.  From what he can guess, Brendon has gone into his room and shut Rod out.  He silently prays that the annoying Pom will just take the not so subtle hint and disappear.  He shouldn’t get his hopes up.

 

“Jim…Jimmy…you in there?”  The same banging he heard before is repeated by the man outside his door, who clearly wants to wake James and have a really important discussion with him about the joys of being stuck in hotel corridor.

 

James stares up at the ceiling with wide eyes and waits.  The fist bangs on his door again.

 

“Need someone to talk to”, and after a pause, “please?”

 

James wants nothing more than to stride across the room, swing the door open and tell the annoying idiot to fuck off.  He manages the striding part just fine, and somehow gets the door open only to find his mouth hanging open at the sight before him.

 

Rod is standing before him in nothing but a pair of white boxer shorts, his lean toned torso wearing a tan he clearly didn’t get from the English winter, and the intricate multi-coloured full sleeve on his right arm drawing James’ eye, before he somehow manages to wrench his gaze back to his face, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times, just to completely blow any idea he has about being loud and mean totally out of the water.

 

“Where are your clothes?”

 

It comes out in a harsh half-whisper; James suddenly having to swallow to get his throat to stop from closing up completely.

 

Rod glances down at his body as if he is completely unaware of that fact that he is near naked and returns James that grin that he is already beginning to hate.

 

“Bugger.  How’d that ‘appen?”

 

He is very drunk again, James notes.  He can see him swaying slightly, and takes in the glassy look in his eyes as the smirk on his face just won’t shift.

 

“He’s got ‘em.”

 

Rod cocks his head in the direction of Brendon’s room and, as if on queue, James hears a door open.

 

Again unable to stop his mouth from dropping open he watches wide-eyed as Brendon stomps purposely towards them, carrying what James assumes to be Rod’s missing items of clothing, before unceremoniously dumping them at Rod’s feet and pausing for a minute before leaning in close and muttering in a voice that James hopes he never has to hear from his team mate again.

 

“Now fuck off, and don’t even try to contact me again.”

 

Rod recoils back, almost as if it’s Brendon who’s the one who’s been drinking, and he’s smelt the fumes on his breath.  It’s pretty clear to James that that’s not the case.  Brendon is stone cold sober, and James thinks he can almost make out his nostrils flaring as he remains in place, fixing a menacing stare on the Englishman.

 

Rod’s suddenly conscious of his nakedness and is leaning down as best he can with Brendon in his personal space and scooping up his clothes and shoes before hugging them to his chest, and backing away gingerly.

 

“Yeah, that’s it.  Leave.”

 

Brendon’s voice is low and laced with something else this time.  James thinks it’s close to sounding sad, but mentally shakes himself out of that idea, and tries to edge back a little into the doorframe, starting to feel very conscious of the tense situation he’s landed in the middle of.

 

As if Rod just can’t help himself, James watches as he lifts one hand to his head in a feeble looking salute.

 

“So long boys.  Was fun while it lasted.”

 

He follows this up with a wink and somehow manages to shuffle down the hall and round the corner, presumably heading for the lift.

 

James looks from the now deserted corridor, back to Brendon and then straight down at his toes.

 

He can hear Brendon take in a deep breath before muttering quietly, “night James.”

 

James almost wants to call after him as he lifts his gaze to catch Brendon’s retreating back.  He’s just going to leave it there?

 

It’s been the only thing on his mind since last night, so James is not too surprised when someone taps him over the head with a loosely rolled up newspaper, bringing him back to the present.

 

It’s Jake.

 

“Anyone in there?”

 

James blinks.  He eventually realises the team meeting is over and people are moving around him.

 

He nods and responds duly, “yeah, I’m in here.  Sorry mate.  Just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

 

Instead of nodding and looking placated like normal, Jake fixes James with a slightly worried expression. 

 

“I’m hearing that from you a bit lately mate.  You sure you’re really alright?”

 

James straightens in his seat, more than a little worried that he is being called on his demeanor.  It had got that obvious?

 

He nods, smiling the best fake smile he can muster and unfolding his arms to try and convince his team mate.

 

Jake looks at him for several seconds, summing him up, before eventually nodding and hauling his tall frame to his feet.

 

“See you in the nets then.”

 

James glances down at his watch.  He has a couple of hours before the team bus leaves for net practice, and he’s pretty keen to spend those hours by himself, trying to relax as best he can.

 

When he gets there, he finds the hotel’s small but decent indoor heated pool mercifully deserted.

 

He slips into the steamy water and feels slightly calmed almost right away.

 

James sets about doing a few leisurely lengths, hoping that this effort, as well as this afternoon’s overs in the nets will completely knock him out tonight, and that stray thoughts of anything to do with men outside his door or in the next room, will stay away.

 

He cuts through the water, and manages ten laps of the short pool before he feels the drag of the water slowing him. 

 

Coming up for air and wiping the water from his hair and out of his eyes, he blinks to focus and suddenly sees them; a pair of legs, dangling in the water, just at the periphery of his vision. 

 

“Didn’t know you were such a fish, James.”

 

Of course; who else would it be?

 

James turns his head a little.  Brendon is sitting in his swimming trunks, on the edge of the pool to his left, his feet gently working back and forth in the water as he regards James with a smile.

 

Just be you James, he thinks to himself.

 

He manages to lock eyes on Brendon before he nods, “yeah, I’ve always liked the water.”

 

James is in the slightly shallower end of the pool now, and as he’s standing up, it gives Brendon every opportunity to run his eyes up and down the exposed half of his body before responding, “It likes you too by the look of things.”

 

James tries to tell himself that he didn’t just receive a once over and repeats his _‘just be you James’_ mantra to himself, before sinking down in the water a little to cover part of his torso.

 

Clearly the wrong thing to do.

 

Brendon’s grin widens and he lifts his foot quickly to splash water at James, making him flinch slightly, despite the small amount of spray reaching him.

 

“Didn’t realise you were shy.”

 

Oh.  God.  James wonders if he’s suddenly skipped the rest of the day and is now deep in the middle of some sort of dream where his most embarrassing thoughts and private moments have been made public, and now he’s being made to pay.

 

“So…I’m guessing you’ve been wondering about last night, and for that matter, all the other nights.”

 

James can’t stop his head from nodding, in direct conflict with his mouth which opens to let out an unconvincing, “No, not really.”

 

Brendon just smiles even wider; dropping his chin to hide his amusement, before returning his eyes to James again.

 

“Oh yes you have been.”

 

James stays as still as he can, not saying a word.  He’s suddenly incredibly conscious of his near nakedness, and wants desperately to be able to get out of the pool and at the very least wrap a towel around himself.  Those thoughts are counteracted by the knowledge that Brendon will have more, much more, of him to look at if he comes out of the water.  And that would be bad, very bad.  James suddenly remembers the nets several days ago, and how he was caught staring.  He remembers looking at Brendon as if…well, there’s no other way around it, he realises.  James was considering for the first time what people found attractive in the other man, and now, with Brendon only meters from James, and with very little covering his compact, yet well formed frame, those thoughts are bubbling to the surface again.

 

“You can’t tell me you don’t want to know what’s been going on.”

 

James wonders if anything he has to say at this point will make any difference, so he chooses silence, once again, and tries not to let his eyes stay too long on that spot between Brendon’s neck and shoulder.  He sinks down even further into the water, and realises that now not only is his brain conspiring against him, but certain other parts of his anatomy are coming to the make-James-squirm party.

 

“It’s not like I can pretend nothing happened, is it?  I mean, I’m sure you heard enough to figure most of it out anyway.”

 

And just when James thinks things can’t get any more uncomfortable, Brendon slips off the side of the pool and into the water, instantly dipping himself under, before coming up slowly, his eyes closed tightly while he wipes them clear.  James watches him stand, pulling himself up out of the water slightly, and oh God, letting all those little droplets fall off him and back into the pool.

 

He’s pretty relieved when he doesn’t make a move to come any closer.

 

“You see, the thing is, I like sleeping with guys.”

 

James’s mouth dries up.  Okay, so it’s not like this is necessarily the biggest bombshell in the world, but still, Brendon’s in front of him, in the flesh, actually telling James that everything he _thought_ was happening in the room only meters away, was probably pretty much exactly what James was imagining, and no, this did not make him feel better in any way shape or form.  It is not at all helpful for James to now have images which are a combo of the two males he’d last seen near naked, in a hotel bed just like his own doing…well, things that guys did together sexually.

 

Brendon’s watching James a little more carefully now.  James wonders if he’s thinking he’s going to bolt.  Bloody hard thing to do when surrounding by water, James thinks, and stays stuck to the spot.

 

“I mean, I like women too,” he shrugs a little, “there’s just something about…”

 

And the sentence trails off.  James can’t work out whether Brendon’s trying to find the right words or whether he’s reached that point of a little too much information.  Before long, he’s changing tack, and leaving the thought unfinished.

 

“So this guy…Rod…I met him the last time I was out here, when I was in a tattoo parlour, looking at some designs.  I’m not sure how things really developed but…yeah.”

 

James isn’t sure he wants to hear any more of this, but he’s also not sure he can bear for Brendon to stop.  The water has stopped dripping from Brendon’s pale arms, he notes, and he’s somehow managed to stop his eyes lingering over the spot on his chest where the fern leaf is etched.  He’s pretty proud of his effort, and even tries a small nod to get Brendon to go on.

 

“I wasn’t going to tell anyone.  Just…this time around, Rod’s being different.  Well, he _was_ being different.  And yeah, I wasn’t going to have him come to my hotel, but he found me and…”

 

Brendon shrugs again, letting his sentence again float about unfinished.

 

“I hope you don’t feel weird about this mate.”

 

Brendon’s look is now definitely a concerned one.  As much as James knows Brendon as the cocky talented guy in the team, this is one of those rare times where he’s seeking assurance, and for some reason, James wants nothing more than to give it to him.

 

James shakes his head, “no, not weird.”

 

He wants to say more, but knows he can’t exactly be responsible for what might come out of his mouth right now.  He figures; “not weird, just a little turned on” might not be quite the reply his team mate is seeking, but then again…no, James shakes himself.  That look he was giving you meant nothing.  You know that.  And just because he likes men, doesn’t mean he likes you.  And fuck, James wonders why he’s even having these thoughts anyway.  _He_ doesn’t even like men, does he?

 

He’s torn from his thoughts by the sound of water, and the sight of Brendon turned away and heading for the side of the pool.

 

The conversation, if that’s what it was, must be over.

 

James tries to look anywhere but at Brendon’s arse, covered by wet gripping material as he emerges from the pool.

 

Even if he can’t quite achieve that, he manages to flick his eyes away just in time for Brendon to grab a towel and start drying himself off.

 

He voice is the cue for him to be able to look again.

 

“Thanks James.  Glad things are okay.”

 

James tries to fix on a smile and nods a little, “yeah, no worries.”

 

He watches Brendon wander to the changing room before sinking back down into the water and letting it wash over him.  Things are anything but okay, James thinks. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

James’s body is hot.  There’s a sheen of sweet developing nicely across his chest as he squirms on the mattress and feels the sheet slip off a little further.

 

His fingers have somehow wound their way through the head of hair positioned above his groin.  The head is moving up and down, pushing back against his hand, and James finds his fingers fisting up slightly, trying to gain purchase.

 

James lets out a strangled sound as the wet warm pressure increases around his cock.  Someone has their very talented mouth wrapped around him and is doing their best to make him come.

 

He tries to lift his head.  He wants to pull the sheet away.  All he can see is a lightly bobbing head under the thin sheet, encouraged by the force of his hand, as his stomach muscles tighten and he feels himself getting close. 

 

The hair under his fingers feels soft, but it’s short and he wonders who he knows with short hair and a perfect cock-sucking mouth.

 

He gives up the battle, and slumps back into the bed, his head falling heavily into the pillow as he feels his aching length push deeper into the mouth of his late night visitor.

 

James’s own mouth falls wide open as he suddenly arches up and comes in hard desperate spurts.  He catches a glimpse of a face, lips bulging around his pulsing cock, and it only serves to intensify his orgasm. 

 

Brendon.

 

Unexpectedly James feels the sticky warmth of his own cum coating his clenched fist and his eyes are instantly open wide and blinking into the gloom.

 

Fuck fuck fuck. 

 

He lifts his head and shifts his gaze wildly around the room.

 

He’s alone. 

 

He slumps back with a rough sigh.

 

A fucking dream.

 

His pulse is racing and, as his eyes shut for an instant, he’s there.  The image is so vivid that James flicks his lids wide open instantly and tries to make out the outline of the ceiling light in the dim.  It doesn’t help much with erasing the image of Brendon’s dark eyes focusing on him as his cock slides obscenely between his lips and his tongue curls around the head.

 

“Christ,” James mutters into the still room.

 

As his breathing settles down, he becomes aware of the mess on his hand and stomach and eventually throws the single sheet off him before trailing his way in the dark to the bathroom.

 

He flicks on the light and squints his eyes up at his reflection in the harshly lit mirror. 

 

“You’re fucked.”

 

James swallows over the dry sound of his voice rasping from his throat before reaching into the shower.

 

*

 

He’s never been sure why they do this, but the rest of the guys seem to love it.  James makes a half-hearted attempt to not be the one in the firing line as the team runs around madly at training trying to avoid being the loser of the training game.

 

He should have known he wasn’t going to avoid the punishment.

 

James stands with his shoulders bunched up, ready for the onslaught as the rest of his team lines up behind him with tennis balls.

 

When it comes, it’s actually almost a relief to have something physical to focus on.  A distraction from what’s in his mind.  His body almost feels numb at the tennis balls come at him in quick succession.

 

It doesn’t last long.  For whatever reason, the guys get sick of throwing things at him and quickly break off into their different fielding groups.  Maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t reacted at all.  It’s no fun when your prey doesn’t show signs of defeat.

 

Something slightly larger than a tennis ball, hits him lightly on the lower back, and he hears the voice of their fitness trainer from behind him.

 

“Frankie, can you give Brendon some throws?  I’ve just got to go take a phone call from home.”

 

James turns slowly and bends to pick up the baseball mitt that’s been unceremoniously tossed at him.

 

“Yeah sure”, he mutters to no one in particular.

 

He feels something knock against his foot, and glances down to see a couple of balls rolling towards him.

 

“Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

 

Brendon’s there, as if he’s James’s new shadow, pulling on his keeping gear and bending down slowly to secure his pads.

 

“I’m not asleep.”

 

Brendon straightens up and smiles at this, idly tossing a practice ball from glove to glove.

 

“No?  You do look a little tired.  Rough night last night?”

 

James takes on the appearance of a startled fawn under the close attention of his team mate.  He can’t help but glance over those lips that last featured in his dream.  They were slightly damp, and fuller, but still, those were the lips and James’s mouth parts a little as his mind wanders elsewhere.

 

Brendon’s face appears close to his own, and James realizes he’s lost a couple of seconds.  He’s waving one of his keeping gloves in front of James, and displaying that slightly cocky smirk that James wishes belonged to some other guy, some guy who he hadn’t just received a blow job from while unconscious.   

 

James swallows and takes a subconscious step backwards.

 

Brendon looks quizzical. 

 

“You alright mate?”

 

James nods, “let’s get going huh?”

 

Brendon just stares at him for a minute before tossing him the ball he’s been holding.

 

“You know, if there’s anything you need to say to me…you can, right?”

 

James tries to keep his face neutral and fails miserably.

 

There’s a pause as if Brendon is weighing something up, before he eventually nods.

 

“Yeah I know, this isn’t the time.  Um…meet for dinner later?  Why don’t you come over and we can order some room service?”

 

“Room service,” James repeats in monotone.

 

“Yes, room service.  You know, were you get food sent to your room.”

 

James nods and smiles as best he can, trying to sound as light as possible, “I’ve heard of it, yeah.”

 

Brendon flashes a wide grin, “great, that’s settled then.  7pm, my place.”

 

And before James can open his mouth to protest, Brendon is off, getting into position for James to start throwing missiles at him.

 

James knows he should have just politely declined.  He doesn’t really have anything to say to Brendon, unless Brendon wants to hear about how good he is at giving head in James’s dreams.

 

James thinks it’s best to focus on fielding practice.  Watching his agile keeper lunge from left to right for the next half an hour must surely count as being focused, right?

 

*

 

James stands in front of his bedroom mirror and contemplates showering again.  Not only is his temperature causing him to sweat, but he’s splashed on what feels like a ridiculous amount of cologne.  He examines his face and runs his eyes over his clothes.  Just a casual polo shirt and beige coloured dress pants.  He wishes he didn’t feel like he was 17 and getting ready to go on a date with his high school sweetheart.  It’s too late though, as that’s exactly how he feels.  He hasn’t even managed to sort out his brain enough to pre-prepare a response to the inevitable questioning he’s about to receive.  He knows Brendon will ask him if he’s really okay about his little revelation in the hotel pool, now he’s had a few days to digest it.  Is he?  What’s his best response to make this whole thing die down and go away? 

 

James stares at his reflection for several minutes.  The thought is niggling in the back of his mind that maybe he doesn’t want what happened to be forgotten about.  His body certainly seems pretty keen to remind him. 

 

He glances at his watch.  It’s ten to seven.  He looks over at the small hotel fridge, into which he earlier stashed six bottles of beer.  He wasn’t sure when he bought them if he was going to take them to Brendon’s room, but now, as he reaches into the fridge to pull them out, he’s glad of his purchase.

 

He’s even more glad he has something in his hand to raise slightly in greeting when Brendon opens his door to him minutes later.  Something to deflect the attention away from himself briefly as Brendon’s eyes drop to the offering.

 

“Oh great.  Didn’t get a chance to get any myself.”

 

James smiles and follows Brendon into the room, letting his eyes linger on Brendon’s snug fitting white shirt and jeans.

 

He pushes the door shut and stands in the room awkwardly for a minute, before Brendon looks at him and wrinkles his face up in amusement.

 

“Frank?  You can sit down you know.  No need to be that formal.”

 

James lets out a breath and eases a smile onto his face as he puts the beer on the coffee table and sinks gratefully into the couch.

 

“These need an opener,” James nods at the beers, “can you grab one while you’re up.”

 

James watches Brendon disappear into the small kitchen area and after a few seconds, catches himself staring at his small, well formed frame, as he pulls open a couple of drawers.

 

He startles James a little, and causes him to glance away when he speaks.

 

“Hope you don’t mind, I’ve ordered a couple of gourmet burgers and salad.  I was bloody starving.”

 

Brendon walks back over with a bottle opener in hand and quickly works the tops off two of the bottles.

 

James nods, “sounds great.  Pretty hungry myself.”

 

James takes a dewy bottle from Brendon and takes a large swallow of the still nicely chilled beer.  Just the smell of it helps relax James a little.  Some of the tension he’s been carrying in the last hour or so leaves his body, and he feels himself sink down into the couch a little.  This is short-lived however as Brendon decides to slump down next to him, his body landing only centimeters away, as the hand not holding his beer bottle settles casually on James’ thigh.

 

James does his best not to flinch, which involves staring intently at the damp label on his bottle and fingering it lightly as if beginning down the route of some important scientific labeling experiment.

 

He can feel Brendon’s eyes boring into him and can hear him swallow his first mouthful of beer, producing the time honoured sigh of satisfaction as it slides down his throat.

 

“So…how are you _really_ doing?”

 

James now wishes he’d had that second shower.

 

“Huh?” oh, good going James.  He at least manages to turn his head and meet Brendon’s intense stare.

 

Brendon inclines his head a little.

 

“How are you doing?  Are things okay with you?”

 

Brendon drinks from his bottle again, regarding James carefully before adding on quietly, “I dropped a bit of a bombshell on you the other day, didn’t I?”

 

James wishes they were sitting in a crowded café in the middle of the day with a table between them.  Brendon’s hand on his leg is burning him.  The fire is spreading up his leg.

 

He manages a nod, “yep.”

 

“It’s alright you know.  You can tell me you find it disgusting.  I’m pretty used to that reaction.”

 

“I don’t.”

 

“Don’t?

 

“Don’t find it disgusting.”

 

Brendon nods a little at this and drinks more beer.

 

“I’m glad.  I mean, I don’t want things to be weird between us James.  You’re a great mate.”

 

Brendon is silent for a minute.  It definitely feels like he’s weighing something up, and James stares at his fingers, waiting for what comes next.

 

“You didn’t, um, hear anything, did you?”

 

It’s a quiet, almost nervous question, and James turns his head finally and regards Brendon before he goes on.

 

“You know, at night…through the wall.”

 

James screws his face up slightly wondering what Brendon’s going to say if he tells him he heard every single thing, not that he actually did, but still…

 

“I…well, I heard some stuff.”

 

James wonders why he didn’t just say no, he didn’t hear a thing.

 

Brendon simply nods and regards James carefully.

 

“Sorry,” and a pause before continuing, “I know that’s the last thing a straight guy would want to hear.”

 

James finds himself shaking his head quickly, too quickly, and mumbling out “no, no I didn’t mind it.”

 

And there it is, the small smirk is back, and James could kick himself.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Well, you know, I…it didn’t gross me out or anything.”

 

James senses it as much as sees it as Brendon leans a little closer.

 

“It didn’t?”

 

James shakes his head, “no.”

 

Brendon glances down at the bottle in James’ hand, “you not thirsty?”

 

James licks over his lips, instantly drawing Brendon’s eyes to them.

 

He nods before slowly lifting the bottle to his mouth and drinking from it.

 

Brendon’s eyes are on him the whole time, and somehow he finds he can’t tear his own gaze away either.

 

“It’s good, you know.  Different, but really really good.”

 

There’s a low rough quality to the words, and it makes James’s shirt collar feel far too tight all of a sudden.

 

“It?”

 

Brendon nods, glancing between James’s eyes, “yeah, being with another guy.”

 

James hopes he’s imaging Brendon’s fingers gripping his thigh a little more firmly and edging a little further up his leg.

 

“It’s nice you know? To feel like you’re equals, and of course, you can be a little more…rough.”

 

With that, the corner of Brendon’s mouth quirks up and James has that mental image again.  Those lips are parted in an entirely different act, and right on cue, James feels the blood starting to pool in his groin and he shifts slightly on the couch.

 

James feels his skin prickle as suddenly Brendon’s mouth is close to his ear, and his breath is hot across his skin.

 

“Have you ever thought about it?”

 

James is glad Brendon can’t see his face as he asks this.  His body is frozen in place as he’s caught between running away and doing whatever the hell the opposite is.

 

A sudden loud rap on the door breaks the tension, along with a muffled declaration of “room service.”

 

James is up and standing with the door wide open in front of him in an instant.

 

He’s never been so pleased to see a hotel worker in his life.


	6. Chapter 6

James somehow manages to extract himself from the corner of the couch.

He’s up and across the room in double quick time, flinging the door wide open and gripping onto his mostly still full bottle of beer.

James grips onto his still fairly full bottle of beer and gives the waiter now filling Brendon’s hotel doorway, the most encouraging smile of his life.

“Food. Great.”

He’s frozen there for a second, eventually shaking himself and realizing he has to move out of the way to let the waiter in with the tray of food.

As he turns, he can’t help but flick his eyes back to the couch. Brendon’s not there.

The waiter bustles in past him and puts the tray down on the coffee table before standing back and smiling at James.

“Will there be anything else, Sir?”

James bites his lip and contemplates telling the man that the floor needs a vacuum and the windows a good clean, while he’s here.

He looks over to the kitchenette bench, seeing Brendon propped casually up against it with a fresh beer in hand, he slowly shakes his head.

“No…no, that’s great. Thanks.”

The waiter nods, and with practiced economy, leaves and shuts the door behind him as quickly as he’d arrived.

He can hear Brendon swallow down more of his beer, and knows his eyes will be on him.

James fixes his gaze on the newly delivered tray, and wishes he actually had an appetite.

“Let’s eat then.”

James nods at the other man’s words, eyes fixed in place as Brendon’s there, leaning over the table and removing the metal lid.

He makes a low noise of satisfaction as the smell of hot food rises in front of him.

The tray has two large burgers, fries, and some salad crammed onto it, and Brendon’s already scooped up one of the burgers and taken a hefty bite out of it.

James can’t stop himself lifting his eyes to watch.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Brendon grins at James around his mouthful of food and motions towards the tray.

“Eat up, Frankie.”

He watches James expectantly, while he does as he’s told and carefully picks up the other burger before cautiously sitting down in the far corner of the couch again.

To James’s surprise, Brendon doesn’t join him, but instead sinks down into the single seater on the other side of the table.

Lifting his eyes briefly, it doesn’t surprise him at all, to see he’s being studied. Brendon almost scoffs down his food and is soon leaning over to grab a handful of the thick cut fries from the tray.

“Mmm…man, there are good too. Guess this means an extra hour in the gym tomorrow, eh Frankie?”

James tries to smile, and manages a small nod, as Brendon very audibly drinks from his near empty bottle of beer.

“So…”

Brendon follows this with a lengthy pause. James’s stomach clenches up. Oh no. No no no.

“Where were we?”

James can hear the wide smile, even if he can’t bring himself to focus on it.

“Oh yes…you were about to tell me if you’d ever thought about being with a guy.”

Fuck fuck fuck. Brendon makes the statement as if he’s talking about mowing the lawn. 

James has the answer on the tip of his tongue. No, no I never have and I never will. That’s not so hard, is it? Only, that’s not strictly the truth. A month ago, it was definitely the truth. Now? Now, if he’s being completely honest with himself, he thinks about it rather a lot.

He picks at the one remaining untouched corner of his beer bottle label and swallows hard.

“Um…”

James starts as he catches something moving out of the corner of his eye.

Brendon has somehow moved to be kneeling beside him, leaning lightly on the arm of the couch, awaiting some sort of response.

“You know, I went through the same thing.”

James looks up, somehow managing to hold Brendon’s eyes.

“Took me a long time to admit it to myself, let alone anyone else.”

Brendon’s leaving space in there, maybe just to let James say something if he likes, but James feels like his body has turned to lead, and his lips won’t work anymore.

As leaden as he may be, James’s can feel the fire burning in his arm as Brendon’s fingers slowly run down it. Brendon’s voice is so low and quiet now, James has to concentrate hard to make out every word.

“James? I think I can tell what you’d like. I think you’re curious. I think you knew what was going on in my room all those nights. I’m not blind. I can see how you’ve been looking at me.”

There’s a pause. Brendon finishes off his beer and leans over to set it down on the table before going on.

“Why don’t you think about it? Take the next day, and if you’re feeling what I think you are, then come back here tomorrow, at the same time, and I’ll show you what it’s really like.”

James feels his eyes go wide in comprehension. He’s close to saying something, and his mouth opens to form the words, but they don’t come. In the end, he simply finds himself nodding.

Brendon gets slowly to his feet and does something James can’t quite reconcile with his usual forward, forceful demeanor.

He bends down and lightly kisses James on the cheek before holding his hand out so he can help pull James to his feet.

“Come on, let’s get you safely back to your own room, before some evil gay boy takes advantage of you.” 

James manages his first genuine smile of the evening as he eventually places his hand in Brendon’s letting the other man pull him, with surprising strength, to his feet. The force of the movement pushes James’s chest up against Brendon’s and instead of instantly taking a step backwards, James pauses. He feels Brendon’s hand settle on his hip.

Brendon senses that James isn’t going to pull away, and tilts his head up slowly, the space between them filled with their mingled breath.

James can feel and smell Brendon. He’s hot against him. His body is firm, but not hard, and the smell of beer, fresh sweat and aftershave makes James’s stomach swim.

They stay like this; Brendon simply looking up at James, who finally, can’t tear his eyes away. It occurs to James that Brendon isn’t going to push him into anything. Right now, he wonders what would happen if he bends his head slightly and…

Brendon lets his tongue trail over his lips and James wonders when his hand found its way around Brendon to fist in the back of his cotton shirt.

James can feel his heart pounding in his chest. I want to kiss him, is all he can think to himself. No other thoughts of, go away and think this through. Nothing about how he’s never done this before, and how it’s probably just curiousity, not attraction. All James can see and feel is Brendon, and as he lowers his head and closes the gap, he knows that what he’s doing is going to change things, open new things up, and that for better or worse, he wants that.

His eyes close as his lips meet Brendon’s warm damp ones. James doesn’t know what he expected, but there’s no reaction at first, as he simply gets used to the idea of doing this with another man. 

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, Brendon reacts. It’s almost as if he wants to give James time to pull back, but now he’s decided that he’s not going to, he’s going to return the kiss with sudden enthusiasm.

Brendon slides an arm around him and pulls their body tightly together as his lips part gently and begin to move against James’s.

James hears a low sound drag itself from his chest, as his hips press hard against Brendon’s and he’s aware of just how aroused this is making him already.

Brendon’s mouth opens wide, and James willingly lets his tongue inside it, any reservations he had now completely forgotten.

The sensations are new and unexpected and flooding over James like a tidal wave. He lets Brendon suck on his tongue as he feels a hand grab at his arse, pulling them together with enough force that he can feel Brendon’s insistent erection pressing into him.

And almost as suddenly as it had began, there is hot breathy space between again, as Brendon pulls back and breaks the kiss.

It’s Brendon’s who’s now struggling with the eye contact as he sucks in deep breaths and lets his hands hang at his sides.

James watches him as he licks over his lips, tasting Brendon on them.

“Fuck…”

Brendon’s voice is ragged, and James smiles at the change in it. It’s not like he’s suddenly got the upper hand, but he can tell that it wasn’t that easy for Brendon to push him away. 

Finally, he looks up at James.

“So…tomorrow.”

“I don’t have any plans for the rest of this evening,” James offers quietly.

Brendon’s watching James, taking in the words, and clearly considering, before eventually shaking his head.

“James…I’m not having you regretting anything you do with me. If you come back tomorrow, and fuck, I really hope that you do, it’s because you’ve thought about it, and it’s what you want, not just because you’re got a ragging hard on in your pants.”

James doesn’t miss the slight smirk at the mention of his hard dick.

“I don’t want to just kiss you. So you need to realize what that means, okay?”

James is close to arguing that he’s a big boy, he knows what he wants, right here and now, but this is Brendon, and he knows he’s not easily swayed. 

He stands and lets his breathing even out, before eventually nodding. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

James nods again.

“I’ll be back tomorrow. Same time.”

James can’t help himself. He reaches back and grips the short hair at the nape of Brendon’s neck before kissing him hard.

He can still taste him on his lips as he’s walking away down the hotel corridor, thinking about the shower he’s about to have; the shower during which he’ll be thinking about Brendon while he jerks off and comes hard groaning out his name.

*

James isn’t sure how he’s going to get through the next few hours. He somehow managed to fall into a fitful sleep somewhere around 3am. After taking care of himself in the shower, he managed to make himself hard again an hour later after not being able to clear his mind of thoughts of the kiss he shared with his team mate in the room next door.

He stands and watches himself in the bathroom mirror. He looks like the same person. He feels mostly the same. It’s not like he’s suddenly going to start buying pink shirts or listening to Barbara Streisand. So what are the things he should think about? Brendon might have had a point, of course. If this doesn’t work out, he still has to see Brendon every day when they play together. Could he live with that? What if James gets into Brendon’s room, takes off his shirt, and Brendon decides he can’t stand the sight of him? James shakes his head and rubs this face before staring back at himself.

“Stop it. Just stop it.”

Men are simple, aren’t they? So why are you standing here worrying about this like a woman?

James glances at the time. 4pm. Training today was thankfully optional, so he decided to go for a run and hit the gym, somehow managing to avoid Brendon all day; not that he wasn’t on his mind for most of it. His words echoing in his head, meaning a couple of quick handjobs in his room were necessary.

“I don’t want to just kiss you…”

James steps into his steamy shower and leans back against the wall, under the spray. His hands run over his chest and stomach. He fights and loses the battle with himself, and lets them trail lower, into the thick nest of curls at his groin before rubbing over his semi-erect cock.

He wonders if Brendon will suck him off in the shower later? Maybe if he asks him to…

God, how did all his sexual thoughts suddenly alter to being about men? And not really men, a man. One man.

James is about to jerk off for the third time, when he hears the phone start ringing from the other room. 

“Damn”

He never ignores the phone, just in case it’s someone calling from home.

He shuts off the shower and wraps a towel around his waist before padding out into his room, still dripping wet and sporting a solid erection.

“Lo?”

James can almost hear the smirk over the phone line.

“You made up your mind yet?”

James furrows his brow in confusion, before it clicks into place.

“I…yeah.”

“And?”

James notes the tone behind that single word. It crosses his mind, not for the first time today, that Brendon wants this more than he’s probably letting on.

“And, I’ll be there. I…” James swallows hard, “I can’t stop thinking about last night.”

Silence, before James can make out a slight intake of breath.

“Good. See you later.”

And there is a click, before he’s left holding a dead phone line.

“Fuck.”

James swears under his breath. Even hearing Brendon’s voice has him aware of unfinished business, and he lets himself fall into the bed before gripping his cock again and glancing over at the bedside.

James is pretty sure he has the longest three hours of his life ahead of him.


	7. Chapter 7

James slowly drifts back into consciousness and blinks several times as the light filters into his eyes. He’s on his bed, naked apart from the towel that’s now only partly wrapped around him. He wonders why he fell asleep like this, and what the sticky feeling is…oh. Fuck! James flicks his eyes to the clock on the bedside, immediately in a panic. 6.24. His pulse is suddenly racing. How the hell did he manage to fall asleep?   
  
He’s up in an instant and tugging the towel around himself again. Time for yet another shower.  
  
His eyes close as he lets the almost too hot water run over him for a good ten minutes. Willing himself not to think of what’s ahead. He lets his hands run lightly over his body, purposely avoiding his groin, before eventually shutting off the shower and stepping out to dry off.  
  
He doesn’t want to look at himself in the mirror, not until he’s dressed, so he heads for his room and tries to figure out what he should wear. James can’t really remember ever being so worried about finding the right shirt. In the end he settles for a pale green polo.  
  
Finally he meets his eyes in the mirror before glancing at his watch. Still ten minutes to go. He rubs nervously at the back of his neck and contemplates raiding the mini bar.  
  
It’s not good form to turn up early, or even really dead on time, but for some reason his watch seems stuck on the same time whenever he glances at it. He nearly feels his heart stop as he hears a sudden insistent couple of knocks at his hotel door. Who the fuck can that be? Don’t they know he’s got something important on?  
  
Cursing a little less quietly than he should be he reluctantly heads for the door, not bothering to look through the peep hole before swinging it wide open.  
  
“Whatever you want, I’m sorry I - ”  
  
James’s words die on his lips which now fall open as he takes in the person in his doorway.  
  
“Oh…”  
  
An amused grin accompanies the reply, “not happy to see me James?”  
  
James doesn’t miss Brendon’s pointed glance at his crotch before his eyes make their way in leisurely fashion back up his body.  
  
He lets out a small smirk as he continues, “not yet maybe, but we’ll soon change that.”  
  
As Brendon brushes past him into his room carrying a bottle of something cold and sparkling, James picks up his masculine scent mixed with a recent splash of cologne, and as predicted, feels the by now almost familiar stirring in his jeans.  
  
James closes the door and stares at the back of it for a second as he concentrates on taking in some deep breaths.  
  
Before he turns, he hears Brendon moving around in the kitchen, and opening cupboards to look for something.  
  
“Thought you’d feel a little more comfortable if I came to you,” a beat before continuing, “so to speak.”  
  
James swallows hard and fixes a smile in place as he turns.  
  
Brendon is setting two oversized hotel wine glasses down on the kitchen counter top.   
  
“No Champagne glasses, so these will have to do.”  
  
James finds his voice in time to ask, “what are we celebrating?”  
  
Brendon simply smiles at him and chooses to ignore the question while making an elaborate show of removing the cork and letting the foam from the bubbly drink splash over the counter.  
  
He fills the two glasses before eventually responding he wanders over and holds one out to James.  
  
“We’re celebrating being true to ourselves.”  
  
James’s hand pauses as he’s part way through bringing the glass to his lips.   
  
Back behind the counter, Brendon takes a large swallow, but never takes his eyes off the other man.  
  
“Mmm…damn that’s good.”  
  
James drinks, and lets the cool bubbly liquid pop and swirl around his mouth for a moment before swallowing, and nodding.  
  
“It is.”  
  
Brendon moves out from beside the counter and comes towards James, still sporting the same gaze he walked in with.  
  
James feels studied, but it’s not an entirely uncomfortable feeling. To be given the full of attention of someone like Brendon is to feel like you’ve won the blue ribbon prize, and he wills himself to relax and enjoy this moment, as he’s got no way of knowing if he’ll ever have this again.  
  
Brendon’s close now, seemingly having glided across the carpet and into James’s personal space. So close, that James can again smell him, and make out the small gold thread running through Brendon’s checked shirt.  
  
“Nice shirt.”  
  
It’s the first spontaneous thing James has been able to say to Brendon in the last week, and he’s almost going to congratulate himself internally until he feels a gentle finger on his arm, drawing its way lightly upwards towards the material of his short-sleeved shirt.  
  
“Thanks, I picked it out myself. I like your shirt too.”  
  
Brendon punctuates this by taking the edge of the sleeve between his thumb and index finger and rubbing them together lightly.  
  
His eyes meet James’s as he smiles conspiratorially, “though I think you’d look better out of it.”  
  
James isn’t sure what he’s expecting. He’d kind of wondered, once he saw the wine, whether Brendon was going to let him drink most of it before making any sort of move. He hadn’t really been thinking that Brendon was going to be telling him to get naked within the first ten minutes, but then, wasn’t that what they were both here for? More light fingers ghosting down his chest and abdomen help confirm exactly what Brendon is after. His fingers curl themselves easily in the bottom of James’s shirt and peal it up a short way. Brendon has his other hand full, so all he does is run his eyes over the newly revealed skin and make an almost inaudible sound of appreciation.  
  
Eyeballing James again, Brendon doesn’t bother putting the question into his words, “I want to see you.”  
  
Brendon takes James’s glass from his hand after letting go of his shirt, “take it off.”  
  
In any other situation, there would have been no way James would let his team mate command him so easily, but now, he’s almost relieved. Part of the nerves he had been feeling were around having to take control of this situation. He simply nods and slowly removes his shirt as carefully as he can, not losing sight of Brendon’s expression. James knows there’s nothing about his body he needs to worry about. He got over feeling awkward and gangly years ago, as his bowler’s body developed, and he got used to showering and undressing with other men. He has never quite got used to being opening admired though, and he can almost feel the heat in Brendon’s eyes boring into his chest as he’s looked at.  
  
Brendon doesn’t speak right away, and James drops the shirt casually to the carpet, not quite sure what to do with his hands after he does.  
  
Brendon makes a show of running his eyes over every part of his exposed skin before finally, seemingly having to tear his gaze away to set the glasses down he’s still clinging on to.  
  
“Fuck James, you’re perfect.”   
  
There’s a raspy, almost unsteady quality to Brendon’s voice, and it’s that along with the body heat he can feel radiating against his own naked chest as Brendon moves close again, that has James’s breath catching in his throat, ruling out any form of reply.  
  
Brendon lifts his hand and lets his warm fingers run from James’s shoulder, down his upper arm to his forearm and wrist, before pushing his short fingers through the other man’s and squeezing gently.  
  
He takes in James’s slightly uncomfortable expression and murmurs, “No one called you perfect before?”  
  
James shakes his head slowly. Not that he can remember, and he’s pretty sure that’s something he wouldn’t forget.  
  
Brendon just smiles that smile that does funny things to James’s knees and lifts his other hand to tangle in James’s hair.  
  
“Shame…”  
  
James can feel their lips getting closer, without intentionally moving his head. A light tugging on the back of his neck lowers his mouth close to Brendon’s and their breaths mingle in the centimetres between them.  
  
“I’m going to kiss you now.”  
  
James doesn’t stop to wonder why he needs to be told, he just simply parts and wets his lips in anticipation before letting out a small muffled sound of surprise as Brendon’s mouth is crushed forcefully against his.  
  
It makes him freeze for a second, before the warm fingers at the back of his neck and the firm willing body pressed against him make him relax into the kiss. No James, this isn’t a woman. James should know Brendon enough by now to know he’s not going to do things by half, or in any way tentatively. He therefore feels less surprise when a searching tongue pushes into his mouth, rubbing against his own. It only takes him a minute before he’s moaning into the warm wet mouth pressed to his, and letting his tongue duel against the invading one.  
  
Brendon lets go of his hand and slides it into the small of James’s back before pulling him tightly to him, letting James know in no uncertain terms that he’s turned on, and meaning business.  
  
James feels his hips shift, as Brendon’s erection grows against him. It’s a new feeling, and kind of heady; feeling the influence he has over the other man’s body.  
  
As happened last time they kissed, Brendon is the first one to break it, pulling back with a breathy whimper, letting his tongue run deliberately over this already damp lips as his dark eyes focus on James.  
  
James knows this already. He’s waiting for Brendon to tell him how this is going to play out. He wonders whether Brendon is hesitating slightly, trying to figure out how far he can go. That question is quickly answered as he feels Brendon’s hot breath ghost his neck, his words whispered into his skin sending a vein of fire up his spine.  
  
“James…I really want to be inside you.”  
  
James is aware of the fine sheen of sweat covering his skin, and stills as all he hears is the rush of blood in his ears. Of course that’s what he knew Brendon wanted, but thinking about it while alone and restless at night, and actually hearing the words from the man himself, are too entirely different experiences.  
  
Lips are at his neck, almost soothingly, as if Brendon senses the tension in James at the idea of what might be about to happen.  
  
“I’ll make you feel good…I promise.”  
  
It’s the tone in those words, rather than their meaning that has James pulling back a little so Brendon can see him properly when he nods slightly and replies with a quiet but unwavering, “yes”.  
  
Brendon doesn’t smile, or smirk, or do anything to suggest he’s just won another thing he knew he was going to get all along, and James knows, then and there, that this is something Brendon actually would work for, if he had to.  
  
Warm lips are at his throat again and James closes his eyes, able to relax slightly more as he lets Brendon talk to him in between brushes of his lips.  
  
“I’m going to…take you to bed…prepare you, and you need to let me know if you need me to stop or go slow…alright?”  
  
On the last word, Brendon pulls back, taking James’s hand again, and looking up into his eyes for reassurance.   
  
James lets himself smile and somehow manages a coherent, “lead the way”, before Brendon is tugging at his hand and pulling him towards the bedroom.  
  
James feels a fresh flush of embarrassment as the door is pushed open and both men survey the messy sheets.  
  
As Brendon pushes the door shut behind him and pulls James with him he stammers out, “I…wasn’t expecting company in here…”  
  
Brendon smiles as he pulls him close and kisses him again, something James could get thoroughly used to.  
  
He shakes his head, “I’m not here to check out your housekeeping skills, James.”  
  
Pulling back, Brendon wastes no time in unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off his shoulders.  
  
He catches the flit of James’s gaze, as the other man is suddenly unsure where to look. Sure, James has seen Brendon’s bare chest before, noticed the flex of bicep muscle as he grips his bat. It is far easier to look when you aren’t actually being invited to.  
  
Brendon grasps one of James’s hands and places it on his chest, over his heart, forcing James to look at him.  
  
“You know, I want you to look at me. I like it.”  
  
Brendon leaves James’s hand on his chest and drops his hand to James’s jeans.  
  
Something stirs in the pit of James’s stomach. He’s really doing this. He has another man about to undo his pants. Despite himself, he feels his hand move slowly over the smooth skin of Brendon’s chest, unintentionally rubbing over a nipple, and feeling the hard hot flesh respond under his touch.  
  
He hears Brendon swear softly under his breath in reaction, and still his movements fractionally, before working at James’s jeans.  
  
James is feeling bolder now, and lets his fingers trail to Brendon’s arm, tracing the ink there as he’s thought about doing the last few nights.  
  
Brendon somehow catches the look in James’s eyes as he traces his fingers across his skin.  
  
“You like that?”  
  
James nods, “I…yeah, it’s hot.”  
  
He surprises himself with the admission, so much so it takes a moment to realise that Brendon has unzipped him and is tugging at the top of his jeans along with his underwear.  
  
There is a moment where Brendon meets James’s eyes, asking silent permission; once I do this, things change.  
  
James nods and feels his clothes tugged over his hips dragging over his sensitive cock, hard and heavy in his underwear.  
  
The cooler air hits his skin as he’s freed and instantly gets replaced by something warmer in the form of Brendon’s fingers. The sounds that escapes his lips doesn't sound like any James recognises as his own.  
  
Brendon presses his lips to James’s shoulder as his hand moves slowly on his cock.  
  
“You feel incredible.” Dropping his voice to a husky whisper he adds, “I’m going to need to taste you later…after I’ve fucked you.”  
  
James’s skin prickles at the words. He’s not feeling embarrassed or unsure anymore, only incredibly turned on. He wants to be fucked. He wants to know how it feels and have Brendon whisper more filthy things against his skin as he touches him the way no other man ever has.  
  
Brendon licks at James’s salty skin and moans softly as he pulls himself back slightly and starts to relieve himself of his own pants.  
  
James watches, never glancing away, as Brendon’s prominent cock springs free and Brendon hisses with the sensation of his own fingers lightly stroking over his length. It’s solid and well formed, like the rest of Brendon, James realises, and he wants to touch it. Almost as if Brendon can read his mind, he feels fingers around his wrist, drawing his hand close, and instinctively lets his fingers brush his solid length before curling lightly around it.  
  
This is power, James thinks. Power like he’s never experienced. His gaze is fixated on Brendon’s face as he gets used to the weight and the feel of Brendon’s throbbing cock in his hand.  
  
“Oh fuck…” Brendon’s breathing is audibly harsh and forced, “as good as that feels, I’m planning on coming in your arse.”  
  
He meets James’s eyes now, almost willing him to flinch at his words, and is surprised when James simply lets go of his cock and leans down a short way before responding, “So what are you waiting for them?”  
  
Brendon’s eyes search James’s quickly before he’s pushing his pants all the way off and digging a small tube out of the back of them, and tossing it casually onto the bed.  
  
“All fours. It's less…well, it’ll feel better that way.”  
  
James nods and turns to crawl onto the bed on this hands and knees. He’s fully aware of the heat of Brendon’s eyes on his arse, as he raises it towards him, and then seconds later, he feels the bed dip behind him as Brendon follows.  
  
His spine tingles as Brendon’s fingers settle on it, stilling there a moment before trailing gently downwards. He wants to twist his head back so he can watch the other man, but resists the urge and lets his head drop as Brendon’s hand slides over one of his arse cheeks.  
  
Warm fingers are replaced with warm lips as Brendon kisses James’s back, “I meant it before…tell me to stop if you’re not comfortable.”  
  
James nods, even if Brendon can’t see it. The silence further acceptance.  
  
James suddenly feels the brush of something new, something hard and hot against the cleft of his arse. Oh…  
  
For the first time, he thinks about something that big being inside him. He feels his stomach clench up slightly in anticipation and tries to slow his breathing as Brendon pulls back.  
  
Quickly, fingers are trailing down his arse crack, pressing in lightly as they go, making James stiffen slightly and then will himself to relax. Yes James, this is going to feel strange. Just…relax.  
  
Just as James manages a deep calming breath, Brendon’s fingers push in-between his checks and rub with purpose over the opening to his body. God, it feels tight. So incredibly tight, and James wonders how Brendon will get his finger in there, let alone his fairly sizeable erect cock.  
  
He feels one finger rub back and forth teasingly, across his sensitive flesh and can’t help but push back a little.  
  
Just as he’s beginning to enjoy the new sensation of being touched in such an intimate place, the fingers are gone. It takes a second before he realises why, as he feels something cool and wet against his skin, making his back arch slightly as he reacts to the new sensation.  
  
Quietly, almost soothingly, Brendon murmurs, “just relax.”  
  
James does his best to do just that as the liquid warms to his body temperature and he feels the same finger rub gently over the tight muscle before pushing at it firmly.  
  
Brendon resists the urge to stab his finger into the tight hot channel and carefully eases the tip into James, trying to ignore the wave of lust created by the feeling of something so tight around such a small part of him.  
  
James’s eyes close as he feels the invasion. Brendon pauses, as much to get control of his own actions as to ensure James is okay.  
  
James can feel the hesitation and surprises himself with his words.  
  
“Go on…I’m okay…”  
  
Brendon needs no further invitation as he slowly but steadily pushes his finger into James, letting the lubricant ease his movements, and focusing his wide eyes on the muscle gripping and stretching around him as he does. He’s not sure anything’s ever turned him on as much as watching James’s body open for him, and he draws on every last bit of self-control he has as he pushes his finger in as deep as he can and stills.  
  
“Jesus…”, lips brush his spine and James feels the muscles around Brendon’s finger flutters slightly as he speaks, “you feel so fucking good…you have no idea.”  
  
James can feel the slight tremor in Brendon’s body and realises he’s struggling to retain control.  
  
“I…go on…I can take more…”  
  
James isn’t surprised to feel Brendon withdraw the single finger from his body before pressing two back firmly against him. This time James feels the pinch as the fingers stretch him, and can’t hide the flinch from Brendon.  
  
He hears a sound, which despite coming from his overly masculine teammate, he takes to be a soothing noise, and oddly, it helps him relax and focus on his breathing.  
  
“How does that feel?”  
  
James can hear the concern in the words. He has no doubt that Brendon’s struggling with his control right now, and probably isn’t used to having to go at someone else’s pace, so he wants to reassure him as best he can as he nods a little, “It’s…tight…full…but I like it.”  
  
James isn’t sure where the admission came from. He can’t say he’s experiencing anything close to pleasure just yet, and as Brendon’s fingers ease in further, he has to resist the urge to make a sound of discomfort, but there’s something about this that’s keeping him incredibly turned on. He can feel his erection straining beneath him, and the knowledge that he’s going to have a fully erect cock buried deep inside him very soon, makes his body clamp down around Brendon’s probing fingers, earning him a low moan from behind, and a couple of muttered words of appreciation.  
  
Brendon stills with his fingers inside James, his breathing ragged, his cock aching. As much as he wants James to be ready, he needs this, and is teetering at the edge of his own self-control.  
  
“James…” he mumbles out, followed by a harsh breath in, “I  _really_  need your arse around my cock.”  
  
James swallows. He in no way feels like Brendon is going to fit comfortably inside him, but despite that, it’s what he wants too, and he finds himself encouraging Brendon with words that belie his nerves, “please…fuck me.”  
  
As soon as it's left his lips, Brendon’s fingers are gone from his body. James can’t control the small whimper escaping his mouth at the loss, surprising both men.  
  
Several moments pass before James feels a hand slide over one of his arse cheeks, parting it gently, and then, oh…surely that warm wet solid piece of flesh pushing into his crack isn’t going to fit inside him?  
  
Brendon grips his cock with his slightly shaky fingers and groans under his breath as he exposes James, and presses the head against the pucker. It’s such a beautiful sight, and another reason he wanted James like this, though he wasn’t about to admit it, was so he could watch James’s body stretch to take him.  
  
A final whispered, “ready?” and James can feel the pressure of the thick head against him. His eyes pinch tight shut as the uncomfortable sensation of having his body opened up like this for the first time, washes over him.  
  
“Breathe…”  
  
As obvious a statement as this is, James actually nods and takes in a large breath, feeling his muscles relax a little, and allowing Brendon to finally push the head of his cock just inside his tight opening.  
  
Brendon wants to scream. He wants to tell James that he’s actually beyond perfect, and that Brendon’s never felt anything so damn good before. Instead, he takes his own advice and breathes, resting his eyes on the glorious sight of his hard swollen cock, surrounded by James’s body for the first time.  
  
James feels the sudden wave of realisation wash over him. There is no going back now; I’m having sex with a man. This changes everything. Nothing in his dreams has prepared him for this. The feeling of fullness and discomfort slowly fades as his muscles adjust, and eventually, he allows himself to push back slightly, surprising Brendon as he does, and earning a guttural moan for his troubles.  
  
The hand at his hip tightens its grip, and Brendon takes James’s action as a signal to take things further as he presses forward gently against him, feeling the tight passage give slowly as it envelopes his cock.  
  
James forgets about breathing as everything in his world focuses on the brand new sensations coursing through him. He knows Brendon is going as slowly as he can, and that the involuntary spasm of his arse muscles around Brendon’s cock won’t be helping any with his self-control. He can’t begin to imagine how incredibly good this must feel for Brendon, and not for the first time his mind wanders to the idea of being inside another man like this. Not just  _any_  other man though. The image in his head is of Brendon, on his back, beneath him, his hips tilted up and his legs around him, as James displays an expression of wonder at how impossibly good it is to have his cock surrounded by something so perfect.  
  
He’s shaken back to the present with the feeling of Brendon pushing forward a little more firmly, and then leaning down slightly over James, almost sensing his need for distraction, as he reaches beneath him and curls his fingers around his cock.  
  
It is what James needs. Almost having forgotten his straining cock, he whimpers at the feeling of warm fingers coaxing him back to life as the pinch in his body intensifies.  
  
Brendon grits his teeth and with one last push, sinks himself as far inside James as he can. He wonders how he’s lived without this. He wonders how he’ll live without this if he can’t have it again. It's not like him not to focus on the moment, and the thoughts shimmer and fade away, as quickly as they came as he leans down as close to James’s ear as he can.  
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
James has to swallow twice to wet this throat and find his voice.  
  
“Yes…I…you can move.”  
  
James isn’t sure that he’s really okay at all. Along with how his body feels physically, there are other things going through his mind that he’s trying desperately to push aside for later. The slide of hard wet cock inside his body does pretty well to help with that exercise as Brendon pulls back slowly. It’s a small feeling of relief, and as Brendon pauses before pushing back in a little more purposely, a little of something else too.  
  
The first flashes of something James hadn’t been expecting curl in the pit of his stomach as Brendon touches something inside him.  
  
James must have given himself away with a sound or reaction he isn’t even aware of as he feels Brendon’s lips curl against his shoulder, as his fingers squeeze at his cock.  
  
“Mmm…see? Not so bad, is it?”  
  
Almost as if trying to make his point, Brendon starts to move his hips against James’s arse, slowly at first, but enough to have that new delicious sensation building in him steadily, to the point where James feels his body start to push back in response.  
  
He’s not all the way to adjusted, as the growing pleasure intermingles with flashes of discomfort. Brendon somehow manages to stay controlled, watching James’s body beneath him as he works his hips.  
  
On one particularly insistent push forward, James feels something akin to a bolt of electricity run through his balls, causing his muscles to grip and tighten around Brendon.  
  
“Ah fuck…”  
  
Brendon’s eyes shut briefly, his head rolling back in pleasure. That’s it for him. Control gone, he lets both his hands come to James’s’ hips, abandoning his cock and causing James to whimper at the loss of sensation.  
  
“Do that again…and I’ll come.”  
  
James’s skin is suddenly on fire. He can feel the change in Brendon. He focuses on breathing as deeply as he can. The discomfort that was there, now forgotten as Brendon pulls back and slides his cock out quickly. Fingers press into his skin, as James feels his body get filled firmly with a low grunt.  
  
The gentle rocking felt incredible, but this…James has barely time to process the sharp jolt of pleasure firing through him, as Brendon quickly starts to build up a rhythm, sliding in and out, pushing his balls up against James’s arse more firmly each time as he seems to press in even deeper.  
  
Little exclamations of pleasure are forced roughly into the room with each thrust.  
  
“Yes…fuck…so tight…fuck you all night…close James…”  
  
James takes a second to realise that he’s now moving freely in time with Brendon’s thrusts, seeking that feeling of Brendon’s cock touching him deep inside, and creating a feeling of pleasure he’s never known before.  
  
After what seems like not nearly enough time, Brendon’s body is arching over him, his chest pressing to James back as one hand snakes around his middle.  
  
Wet breathy lips fall across his skin as James strains to make out harshly whispered words.  
  
Brendon changes his thrusts. Making them slow and deliberate, drawing out the sensations as he lets James know he’s nearly there.  
  
“Gonna come James…don’t want to stop…fuck…feel perfect…”  
  
Brendon’s hand finds James’s neglected cock again and gives it a few rough tugs before James feels Brendon stab in hard, his body weighing down on stop of him with the strain of his orgasm, and then he’s coming; his cock pulsing deep inside James. James’s body taking every drop Brendon has to offer as the milky fluid surges up his cock and pumps into James for the first time.  
  
James feels his arse contract hard, willing Brendon to give him everything he has. He wants to hold this feeling forever, but his body has other ideas as a sharp twist of Brendon’s wrist has him crying out and exploding desperately over Brendon’s hand beneath his body.  
  
He’s not sure how he stays upright. Maybe it’s Brendon’s strong arms around them. It almost feels like their bodies are fused together now.   
  
It could be half a minute or ten, before he becomes aware of his surroundings again. Even then, he doesn’t want to move.  
  
Brendon isn’t as reluctant though, as he presses soft kisses to James’s back, and speaks for the first time since filling him.  
  
“Jesus Christ, Frankie.”  
  
James manages a soft chuckle at the wonder in Brendon’s voice, the vibration moving through both men as Brendon adds in a quiet, hopeful voice.  
  
“Please tell me that you enjoyed that.”  
  
James is silent for long enough that Brendon eventually pulls his spent cock from his body and lets him fall onto the mattress, before rolling alongside him.  
  
“James?”  
  
James sees the expression in his face and realises suddenly what Brendon’s thinking.  
  
He can’t help but take a moment to look Brendon over, registering in his own mind how things have shifted now, before lifting a hand to curl around the back of his neck and closing the distance to kiss him gently.  
  
As Brendon pulls back, the confusion is still there, and James attempts to remove it with a reassuring smile.  
  
His voice is thankfully clear enough for Brendon to makes out the words, when they finally come.  
  
“I don't think enjoy is really the right word.”   
  
He cracks an even broader smile before continuing, “In fact, I’m going to have to get back to you when they invent a word to describe how damn good that was.”  
  
James sees it then, the relaxing of Brendon’s jaw. The realisation in his face, and he gently moves his hand to Brendon’s cheek; an action he can’t imagine too many people have performed before on the man in front of him.  
  
“Thankyou.”  
  
Brendon beams a genuine smile and replies, “no problem.”  
  
He lets out a soft chuckle before adding, “James? Tomorrow when I come over?”  
  
He lets James absorb these words. James nods, feeling his breath hitch and his stomach clench in anticipation, as Brendon’s mouth moves close to his and his voice drops.  
  
“Don’t change the sheets…or make the bed.”  
  
Brendon kisses James hard, and James doesn’t bother thinking about why, just about how this feels, and how it’s going to feel.  
  
An hour later when Brendon has fallen asleep with his body pressed firmly against James’s and an arm slung casually across his waist, James allows himself a smile as he lightly rubs his thumb over Brendon’s arm.  
  
He’s not bothering to make the bed, he thinks, as he’s not planning to let Brendon out of it.   
  
Ever.   
  
Again.   
  
He falls asleep minutes later with a smile on his lips, and a tattoo at his fingertips.  
  
  
  
END.


End file.
